


right.

by Anonymous



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: :), Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:04:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: 'just do what feels right.'
Relationships: Tim Paine/Steve Smith
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11
Collections: Anonymous





	right.

**Author's Note:**

> hi. enjoy this overly dramatic thing that i wrote a couple of months ago :')
> 
> side note - pete/pat is my own silly lil crack ship :P

“.....asking to.....marry me....best decision...”

Tim shifts awake in his seat, barely catching snippets of the conversation around him through the soft music playing in his headphones. He lets out a little strained groan and shifts towards the window, not happy about being awake again so soon.

He squints against the harsh afternoon light coming through one of the windows that _some_ idiot had opened, blinking a few times to adjust his eyes. He figures out that they’re halfway to Southhampton; where the friendly match is to be played. There’s at least another two hours of the journey left, and that’s not taking traffic into account. Tim sighs.

He turns his music up slightly in an attempt to drown out the chatter of his teammates and lets his eyes flutter shut, settling back into the comfort of the solitary seat he’d found towards the back. Tiredness seeps into him almost immediately and he melts into the fabric, leaning into his pillow and pulling his hoodie tighter around him.

“You and Pete are _DATING?!_”

Tim scowls at the too loud words he shouldn’t be able to hear through his headphones, keeping his eyes shut and shifting again so that his body is completely facing the window. He almost wants to sit up and yell, “_are you an idiot?! They’ve been together since February_!” but he doesn’t. Decides that Trav doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment, and besides, he hadn’t been on any of the tours with Pete and Pat.

(Neither had Tim, but he likes to think he’s got at least half a brain to figure it out. Hell, he’d known as soon as he’d seen the two joined at the hip after the World Cup, but he guesses that not everyone’s as observant as him. Must come with being captain.)

Tim turns his music up once again, ignoring the laughter directed at Trav from his teammates. If he wasn’t so exhausted, maybe Tim would be interested in the conversation, but presently he couldn’t care less. Relationship talk is exhausting, and personally, he’d much rather talk tactics —

“....interested.....anyone, Steve?”

Tim involuntarily perks up, eyes shooting open and heart rate quickening ever so slightly. He takes a second to calm himself down, taking a deep breath and removing his headphones discretely before massaging his cheeks to get rid of the embarrassing flush they’re now sporting.

Okay, maybe _sometimes_ he’s interested in relationship talk.

He watches Steve send a small smile to Ussie from where he’s leaning against a seat a few rows up from Tim.

“Am I... interested in anyone?”

Ussie grins. “Yeah.”

Tim sits up slightly, careful not to draw attention to himself. He bites his lip and crosses his fingers inside the sleeves of his hoodie, eyes fixated on Steve’s face. Surely he’d done enough in the last few months to capture the man’s attention. He’d texted and FaceTimed him non stop throughout the World Cup, he compliments him every time he sees him, they’d even gone out to explore London together as soon as they’d reunited. Tim’s not sure he could have made his feelings any more clear.

Steve shrugs and smiles small, shaking his head.

“No. Not for me,” he says. He mimics a tiny cover drive before looking back to Ussie. “I’m focusing on cricket. Having someone right now would just be a distraction, I think.”

Ussie shrugs. “Suit yourself, Smudger. Sometimes it can be nice to have a special person by your side, though. Rachel’s done wonders for me.”

Steve smiles and shakes his head again, and Tim slumps down in his seat, heart sinking low in his chest. He tears his eyes away from Steve’s face, instead looking down at his lap and swallowing thickly.

He’d been putting in so much effort; dedicating so much of his time to Steve Smith, only to find out that it had all been going to waste.

Steve’s not interested in anybody; he won’t be for a while, and suddenly Tim feels like an idiot for putting his feelings on such blatant display.

He falls back asleep with his music blasting much louder than it should be in his ears, heart heavy and crushed.

-

After the tiniest amount of deliberation, Tim decides that he’s not going to give up that easily.

He and Steve would work so _well_ together, and Tim’ll be damned if he’s about to give any chance of an ‘_us_’ with Steve up.

He hasn’t wanted anything this badly in such a long time, and he knows that deep down, under layers and layers of stone cold resolve, there’s a strong chance that Steve might want something with Tim, too.

In the following days, Tim sticks to Steve like a magnet. He follows him everywhere, he’s constantly showing up uninvited at his room to hang, he’s always volunteering to give him throw downs at training. He’s happy when he and Steve get put in the Hick XII together, he’s happy when Steve comes and sits next to him at dinner one night instead of Tim taking the initiative, but he might be happiest when Steve tucks himself into Tim’s side late into the team movie night, burying his head into Tim’s shoulder and fitting himself under Tim’s arm.

When it had come time to go back to their own rooms, Tim had placed a small kiss to Steve’s temple; experimental, and had been nothing short of thrilled when Steve had pulled him in for an extra hug in response.

-

Tim’s built up state of bliss comes to a bitter end on the evening of the the third day of the match.

He’s buzzing, insides warm and gooey as he approaches Steve’s door with movies and snacks in hand. Tim’s been planning this for days now; their own little movie night. If things go to plan, he and Steve should end up asleep in each other’s arms by the end of the night, warm, content and surrounded by blankets.

It’s completely foolproof. Tim can’t imagine anything going wrong.

“Smudger!” Tim grins as he lets himself into the room without knocking; the usual. “How’s it going?”

Steve turns around from where he’d been standing at the bench, gripping a Tupperware container. He looks a little taken aback, but Tim’s too preoccupied with dumping his things on the couch to notice.

“U—uh, Tim! What are... what’re you doing here?”

Tim smiles and holds up a copy of _John Wick._ “I thought we could have our own little movie night, you know? I’ve got a couple here to choose from, uh, let’s see... a few Marvel ones, Star Wars—“

“Uh, Tim—“

“—I’ve even bought Toy Story, if you’d rather that sort of thing. Oh! I’ve got some snacks as well, marshmallows, chips, chocolate—“

“Tim...”

“—I think I remember you telling me once that your favourite chocolate is caramel? So I’ve got that one; there’s more to choose from if I got that wrong, and—

“_Tim!_”

Tim abruptly stops talking and looks up, a little confused. “Yeah?”

Steve swallows and toys with the container in his hands. “I know... I know what you’re doing.”

Tim furrows his eyebrows. “Sorry?”

“Don’t play dumb. I _know_ what you’re doing.”

“I—what?” Tim eyes Steve warily. “I just—I thought we could have a nice night—“

Steve sighs and shakes his head, turning around so that his back is facing Tim. “No, Tim. I know what’s happening here, and _this_,” he turns back around and gestures to himself and Tim, “can’t keep going on.”

Tim’s not entirely sure what Steve’s trying to get at, but his heart drops anyway. “I... I’m sorry?” His voice lacks the previous confidence it had.

“You’re... you—I know you’re interested,” Steve cringes, as if the words are painful to say. “And it’s nice; sweet, even, all the things you do for me—“

“But?” Tim interrupts bitterly, finally realising where this is heading.

Steve looks at him sadly. “I... I can’t. Not right now. It’s terrible timing. I need to focus on my cricket, and... having someone would just get in the way.”

Tim doesn’t know what to do; he’s hurting, as well as completely baffled, and so he does the first thing that comes to his racing mind. He takes three big strides across the room and grips Steve’s face in his shaking hands, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“Surely you want someone, Steve? Please—I mean, you’re right, I’m _so_ interested in you; I have been for about three years now! And... and there’s no way you can look me in the eyes and tell me that you don’t feel at least _something_ for me! Surely?” Tim rambles desperately, eyes roaming over Steve’s face.

Steve swallows thickly, looking at the ground before taking a deep breath and forcing himself to look into Tim’s eyes.

“I don’t feel anything for you, Tim.”

The words are like a stone cold knife to Tim’s chest, ripping open his heart, and he lets go of Steve’s face as if the skin had burnt his hands. He takes a step back, and then another one, and another, until he backs into the couch.

“O—oh,” Tim almost whispers, and he can’t look at Steve, instead staring intently down at the tiles on the floor.

“Tim, I’m sorry, I—“

“No, no, it’s okay,” Tim finds himself saying as he turns to gather his things, seemingly running on autopilot. “I understand. I shouldn’t have... shouldn’t have persisted. It’s fine. I’ll, um, I’ll leave you alone. You won’t hear another word out of me unless it’s completely necessary—“

“Tim, please, just give me a chance to—“

Tim’s already halfway to the door, arms filled with movies and snacks. “All good,” he says, but his voice is laced with bitterness. It’s definitely not _all good_. “I understand. Go well with the... batting, and stuff,” and then Tim’s out of there.

If Tim goes to bed that night with tear stained cheeks and a hollow heart, no one needs to know about it.

-

Steve grits his teeth as the ball goes right through him in the nets, narrowly missing the inside edge of his bat and the bail of his off stump.

“For_ fucks _sake,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head to pull himself together.

Pat sends a tiny grin in his direction as Steve hits the ball back to him. “It’s satisfying, you know. Getting one to go through the best batsman in the world.” He bends down to pick up the ball. “Something on your mind, Smudger?”

Steve ignores him; he’s definitely not about to admit to Pat that a certain wicketkeeper is indeed on his mind. Instead, he goes through his usual fidgeting routine to prepare for the next delivery. Having one _go through him_ isn’t anywhere near his standards, and this has been the third one of the hour.

Normally, he’s lucky if he lets one through in a _week_.

Steve locks his vision onto the ball in Pat’s hands as he steams in, blocking out all outside thoughts and revelling in the way his bat makes perfect contact with the leather as he completes his straight drive.

The ball flies out of the roofless nets for six and Pat gapes at it as it goes over his head, hands on his hips.

Steve lets a little triumphant smile slip through. “Much better.”

Pat snorts. “For some, maybe,” he says, and then he pauses to study Steve, eyes focusing intently on his face.

Steve suddenly feels a little self conscious. “Pat?”

“You _do_ have something on your mind, don’t you? I’ve never seen you miss so many in my life.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “Yeah alright Pat, bring my failures up again—“

“_Steve_.”

Steve grits his jaw and looks down at the ground, scuffing it a bit with his foot. Maybe he should tell Pat. God, it would be _so_ nice to get whatever this is off his chest—

“You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m always here to listen—“

“Is it nice having Pete around all the time?”

Pats eyes widen in surprise at the blurted words. “Uh, Pete?”

“Well—I mean, someone.” Steve rubs at the back of his neck. “Is it good to have someone special alongside you in all this craziness?”

Pat looks like he’s about to ask Steve to elaborate, but he seemingly decides against it, and Steve’s grateful.

“To be honest with you, I didn’t think it would be at first, but Pete,” a lovestruck smile takes over Pat’s face, eyes going soft at the mention of his boyfriend, “he’s amazing. He’s, just—I don’t know, he’s like my rock. He understands. He knows what to do when I’ve had a terrible day of cricket and I’m down. He... _well_, I could go on forever, really, but I don’t want to bore you.”

“Oh,” Steve says. “He doesn’t... distract you, or anything? Deter you from what you’re supposed to be focusing on?”

Pat shakes his head. “Never. If anything, he encourages me to be better, to push harder, because he wants to see me perform well more than anyone else.” Pat glances across to where Pete is standing a couple of nets over, smiling fondly. “He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Steve hums to himself in consideration as he unstraps his pads and puts them in his kit.

Pat makes having someone sound much better than Steve originally thought, and maybe he wouldn’t mind—

_No_. Steve shakes his head a little. It would still be a distraction, and he doesn’t do distractions. Distractions make him miss three balls in an hour in the nets.

He’s happy by himself.

-

Steve’s curiosity gets the better of him once again later that afternoon.

“Hey, Dave?”

“What’s up, mate?”

Steve watches him as he gathers balls in preparation for throw downs. Usually Tim’s his throw down partner, but obviously that’s not happening. He’d been ‘_sick_’ all week.

Steve knows he’s not sick, but he’s not one to spread that around.

“Do you—um, Candy. Is she good to have around?”

Dave gives him a funny look. “She’s my wife, Smudge. She’s wonderful to have around. Keeps me grounded. I love her and our family more than words could describe.”

Steve shakes his head, a bit embarrassed at his ridiculous question. “Yeah. Obviously. Of course. She wouldn’t distract you or anything?”

Steve cringes. He wishes his mouth would take more notice when his brain is screaming at it to shut up.

Dave looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “Never. If anything, she’s a welcome distraction. Now, do you wanna do throw downs or not? Or do you need to go and join Cap up in the hotel?”

Steve almost jumps out of his skin. “NO! No, I don’t—why would I—“

Dave looks like he’s about to start laughing. He places a steady hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Settle down Smudger. Was only wondering if you were sick like him. Some of the stuff you’re coming up with this afternoon is questionable.”

Steve lets out a heavy breath in utter relief. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Head’s a bit all over the place. Throw downs. They sound good. Let’s go,” he says, immediately turning his back to make a brief escape to the nets.

Dave just grins and shakes his head at Steve’s retreating figure, before picking up the balls and following him.

-

The evening continues much the same.

“Hey, Pete; what’s it like having Pat around?”

“Um, Uz. You said that Rachel was good for you on tour?”

“Starcy, does Alyssa ever distract you from the task at hand?”

Steve can’t help his immense curiosity sometimes.

-

“Hey, JL. Do you ever bring your wife on tour—“

“Oh for hell’s sake Smudge! Is that everyone in the team you’ve asked now?”

Steve goes bright red as his teammates start to laugh at his expense.

“Think he needs to get laid,” Josh mutters, and Steve wants to die. Maybe he’d been just a little too relentless with his questioning.

He just wants to be sure, is all. Feelings aren’t a thing to take lightly. In his mind, they need to be calculated and worked out and dealt with in a proper manner. Just like the red ball should be dealt with when batting.

“Sorry,” he mutters to JL, cheeks still flaming. “Sorry. I can’t—I just—“

JL claps a hand onto his shoulder. “I understand. You can never be too sure,” he says, before raising an eyebrow and stepping in closer. “Something tells me you’re reading far too much into whatever’s going on inside your head, though. Don’t overthink. Just do what feels right.” He squeezes Steve’s shoulder with a small smile before walking away.

Steve blinks. And swallows.

_Just do what feels right._

_Don’t overthink._

Steve screws his eyes shut and takes a deep breath.

_Okay._

_-_

Steve almost has a heart attack when he sees Tim walk into the hotel dining room for the first time that week. He looks good at first glance; he’s wearing a fitted black shirt and navy shorts, but on closer inspection Steve can pick out the tired eyes and scruffy hair and his heart drops a little. He can’t go ahead with his plans, he can’t do it when the usual shine of those eyes and the cheeky curl of his lips are nowhere to be seen—

_Don’t. Overthink._

_Just do what feels right._

Steve watches as Tim bypasses the food table completely and sits down at a solitary table in the far corner of the room. He doesn’t look up once, instead pulling out his phone and staring down at it with lifeless eyes. Steve watches him sadly for a moment before turning and dishing some extra food onto his plate.

He won’t let Tim go hungry.

Steve swallows thickly and takes a deep breath. _Don’t overthink, Steve. Just go over there and tell him. It won’t be that hard. Stop fucking overthinking._

“Hi...” he murmurs once he’s got himself together. He slips into the vacant seat next to Tim, cringing slightly when Tim jumps a little.

Tim spares the tiniest glance at Steve before flicking his eyes back down to his phone. Steve sinks into his chair when that’s the only acknowledgement he gets, heart sitting low in his chest. Maybe he should have thought this over more, like he usually does.

He waits a moment before trying again. “I, um... I got some food, for you,” he says quietly, pushing his plate of food towards Tim and placing a fork down next to it. “I... I didn’t want you to go... hungry...” Steve’s voice dies on him as Tim looks up to catch his eye, expressionless.

There’s more silence before Tim breaks it. “Yeah, thanks,” he almost snorts, and there’s a bitter tone to his voice. “Good to know you care.”

Steve feels like he’s been punched. “Tim—“

“I’ve been holed up in my room all week, Steve. I’m sure you knew that I wasn’t sick.” Tim looks him dead in the eyes, sharp blue piercing. “I _know_ that you knew. And I didn’t hear a single word out of you.” He forces out a laugh and shakes his head, breaking eye contact. “I was fucking stupid to even _think_ that you might have popped by—“

“I was _scared_, Tim!” Steve blurts. He’s panicking now; his heart is beating much too fast and his palms are clammy. He wipes them on his jeans and gulps. “I didn’t know what to do, I—“

“Oh, _you_ didn’t know what to do?” Tim grits his jaw as he glances up from his phone with dark eyes. “How the fuck do you think _I_ felt when you ripped my fucking heart out and smashed it into a million pieces?! Do you think _I_ knew what to do?!”

Steve feels like he’s been crushed by a b-double; the words slap him across the face as he realises just what an idiot he had been. He wants to grab Tim and shake him and tell him that he’s been in love with him for just about as long as Tim had been with him, but he’s suddenly very aware of how loud Tim’s talking, and he’s worried that people might start to take notice of them. “Please, Tim, calm down, just listen to me—“

Tim actually laughs this time; it’s cold and humourless, and he pushes himself up from the table, chair scraping the ground. “Of course, you don’t care. I know you. You’re worried that people might hear. Of _course_ that’s what you’re worried about.”

Steve bites down on his lip _hard_, so hard that he thinks he might draw blood. He shakes his head rapidly, blinking fast to suppress the tears threatening to spill. This is too much.

_Why the fuck didn’t he overthink this?_

“Tim, I—I, could we talk somewhere else, _please_—“

“Where else, Steve? What is there to talk about? You’ve done the damage, just let it go.”

Steve instinctively reaches out for Tim’s wrist but draws his hand back almost immediately. He stares at the wood of the table in front of him. “I... just give me a chance to explain myself, _please_! It doesn’t even have to be tonight, you can rest and I’ll find you tomorrow and I’ll—“

“Won’t be around much of tomorrow.”

Steve sighs sadly, still keeping his eyes glued to the table. “What about tomorrow night?”

“I’ve booked a flight home, Steve.”

Steve shoots upright, eyes wide, and he can’t suppress his shock. “You’re going _home_? Tim, the Ashes are in a week and you’re the captain and—“

“I’ve convinced JL to let me skip out on the first two matches. I want to go home. I need to go home. I’m in all sorts.” Tim pauses and glances pointedly at Steve. His eyes are still sad. “I’m sure you can figure out why.”

Steve can’t say anything. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, but nothing comes out. It feels like the b-double has reversed back over him, crushing all his ribs and piercing them through his heart.

Tim takes the silence as his cue to leave. “Alright, well...” he takes a step towards the exit. “I’d, um, better start packing. Long flight tomorrow.”

His eyes linger on Steve, filled with the tiniest bit of hope left over from the other night. Hope that Steve might say something to fix this train wreck of a conversation, maybe fix their all but irreparable relationship. The hope kills Steve, he’s exhausted, and “it is a long flight, I guess,” comes out of his mouth instead of everything else he had wanted, hell, had _needed_ to say.

Tim stares at him open mouthed, unblinking, before he swallows and forces himself to look away, shaking his head and gritting his jaw. “Why did I—you know what, never mind,” he mutters, before turning completely away. “Good luck in the first two matches. You’ll do well without me here to distract you, I’m sure,” and then Tim’s walking for the exit.

Steve watches him go helplessly, gaze lingering on the empty doorway long after Tim’s gone. Eventually he lets his head drop to his hands, exhausted and very, very defeated. He blinks rapidly in an attempt to rid his eyes of the tears that had appeared, but it doesn’t work. He wipes at his eyes as discretely as possible with his thumbs, doing his best to force back the sniffles and the shake of his body every time he recalls any part of their conversation.

He never should have listened to JL.

_Just do what feels right_.

Steve’s never felt so wrong in his life.

-

He decides that he doesn’t want to feel wrong anymore.

Fuck overthinking. Steve’s not going to let Tim walk away just because he didn’t have the balls to fess up. He doesn’t care who hears anymore. He just wants Tim to stay.

“Tim!” He exclaims as he just about runs to catch up with the keeper. Tim doesn’t even react, he just puts his head down and walks faster, and Steve grits his jaw and follows him.

He catches up with Tim and places a steady hand on his shoulder, stopping him from escaping. “Tim, please, would you just,” Steve pauses to catch his breath, leaning down with his hands on his knees, “stop for _one_ second. I want to talk to you.”

Tim glances around the hallway that Steve had caught him in for any sign of an escape, before letting out a resigned sigh and leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed when he realises there isn’t one. “Do you? What could you possibly have to say to me after _that_—“

“You shouldn’t go home.”

Tim frowns at him. “Steve, the flight’s booked. I’ll be in Tassie by Monday.”

“Tim.” Steve dares to take a step closer. “I don’t want you to go home.”

Steve watches the roll of Tim’s throat as he swallows, slow and drawn out, and steps closer.

“Steve—“

“Tim.” Another step, and now they’re basically chest to chest in the dimly lit hallway. They’re so close that Steve can pick out the tiny flecks of hazel in the blue eyes. He lifts a shaky hand to rest gently on Tim’s cheek. “You shouldn’t go.”

Tim’s hand comes up to rest on Steve’s. He lets out an unsteady breath. “Why?” He whispers.

Steve’s eyes are shamelessly resting on the curve of Tim’s pink lips now, and he almost has no control over his actions as he starts to lean in. “Because...” their lips are almost touching now; Steve can feel Tim’s breath against his own and his heart jumps when Tim’s hand moves to thread into his hair. He pushes in impossibly closer, as close as they can be without kissing, and his eyes involuntarily start to flutter shut. “Because I—“

“Tim! There you are!”

Steve and Tim jump away from each other immediately; both leaning against opposite walls with identical wide eyes and flaming cheeks. Their coach makes his way down the hall, nodding at Steve before turning to Tim. “I need to talk to you about tomorrow.”

He hadn’t seen them, but he’d just unknowingly stolen Steve’s last chance to make ‘_Steve and Tim_’ happen. He slumps against the wall, completely and utterly defeated.

Steve doesn’t know what’s just happened, but what he _can_ figure out is that he has the worst luck in the universe. He watches as JL talks to Tim without registering anything he’s saying, and he’s trying to get Tim to look at him, and he won’t, and Steve’s heart sinks.

There’s only one thing Steve can think to do, and that’s wait, so he does, attempting to regulate his heartbeat while leaning against the wall. He waits and waits and _waits_ for JL to stop fucking talking to Tim and just leave them alone, but the end never comes. Steve curls into himself more and more as every minute drags by, losing hope by the second, and eventually he’s had enough.

He’s never been one to give up, but maybe today’s shit show is the universe telling him that he and Tim had got it wrong, and it’s not worth it anymore. Steve’s heart feels like it’s filled with lead.

He clears his throat and pushes himself off the wall, smoothing down his shirt. Tim glances over JL’s shoulder with tired grey eyes and Steve has to look away, not wanting to be drawn back in again.

“I’m, um, gonna head back,” he gestures uselessly to the elevators down the hall.

“Alright Smudger,” JL smiles at him. “Catch you tomorrow at training.”

Steve lets his gaze linger on Tim for a beat, taking in the soft tired eyes and messy hair and the teeth worrying at pink lips before he turns around. “Yeah. I’ll see you then.”

“Smudge, I—wait...”

Steve closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, the tone of Tim’s voice having him so tempted to turn back and just throw himself into his arms, but he doesn’t. He keeps walking.

“Safe flight, Tim. Catch you around,” he throws over his shoulder, and then he’s in the lift that’s taking him up to his room.

Steve collapses against the cool metal wall and shuts his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

Maybe in another lifetime he and Tim would have made it.

-

Steves rugged up in bed not less than half an hour later, wrapped up tightly in blankets and desperate for sleep to overcome him so he can forget that today ever happened, when there’s a soft knock at his door.

He contemplates just staying where he is and hoping that the person will assume he’s asleep and leave him alone to die, but the knocking is insistent, and eventually Steve has to drag himself out of bed. He takes the blanket with him, wrapping it around himself like a cape.

The knocking starts again and Steve frowns, hurrying towards the door. “Alright, Jesus, settle down, I’m coming, I—“

His voice dies mid sentence when he opens the door to find Tim with a tiny hopeful smile on his face.

“Oh, um. Hello.”

“Hi.”

There’s an awkward silence and Steve shuffles from foot to foot before speaking again. “It’s midnight, Tim. You’re supposed to be flying out early tomorrow—“

“We never got to have our movie night.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows. “Sorry?”

Tim’s smile falters as he holds up a bag of snacks and movies. “Our movie night. Last one didn’t go to plan. Was hoping this one would.”

Steve studies Tim’s face, eyes lingering on the brimming hope in his features. He leans against the doorframe and tightens the blanket. “What was the original plan?”

Tim bites down on his lip. “Was hoping we’d end up asleep in each other arms, if I’m being completely honest with you.”

A smile threatens to spill onto Steve’s face. “Was that all?”

“Wanted to ask you out.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Tim takes a step towards Steve, the hope in his eyes replaced with determination. “There was one more thing, actually.”

Steve raises an intrigued eyebrow.

Tim rushes forward, grasping both of Steve’s cheeks with his hands and crashing their lips together. The kiss is hurried and biting and rushed, years of feelings being poured out at once, but Steve wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. He smiles against Tim’s mouth and grabs his waist, pulling him into the room and letting the door shut behind them.

-

Tim doesn’t end up going home.

He tells everyone in the team meeting that he’d cancelled it because he just couldn’t stand to be away from the team for so long, but his eyes had been on Steve for the entirety of his over dramatic speech.

Steve had blushed and shaken his head, but his chest had filled with warmth all the same. He’s over the moon that Tim had decided to stay.

Ultimately, Steve’s glad that he’d listened to JL’s seemingly ridiculous at first advice.

_Just do what feels right._

_Steve and Tim_ feels right.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! feel free to comment :)


End file.
